White Darkness
by Roseclaw
Summary: Yohji wakes up dead. Don't you hate it when that happens? (cross over with Yami).
1. Welcome to Meifu

All rights and privileges to Weiß Kreuz are copyrighted trademarks and property of Project Weiß, Koyasu Takehito, and all peoples associated. And all rights and privileges to Yami no Mastuei are copyrighted trademarks and property of Matsushita Youko and all peoples associated. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless dribble. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. (oh no Farfie's gonna come kill me now!) Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or an bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh*  
  
Pairings: Yohji/Brad, Watari/Tatsumi  
  
Summary: Yohji wakes up in what he assumes is the hospital  
  
Contents: Angst, Yaoi, kinda general  
  
Spoilers: first volume of Yami  
  
White Darkness  
  
I am in the hospital. Nothing new, but still not a welcome sight. But then, I thought that I was dead, so the hospital is a bit more welcoming than the alternative. I took a bullet to the lung. Let it never be said that Kritiker slacks on its medical facilities.  
  
I am not hooked up to a respirator or an IV, which is just a bit peculiar, being in a hospital with a bum lung. My breathing is normal. Odd. There is no pain in my chest. That could be the drugs. But my breathing is normal, without the help of a respirator.  
  
I quasi-quell the sick urge to stick my finger into the entrance wound.  
  
Out of pure curiosity, I snake my hand under my shirt searching for the stitches. Firmly groping my chest, I come up empty handed: there is no wound. Damn, Kritiker technology is so advanced, they sealed the wound. I bet it involved lasers. On my honour, I will never tease Manx again.  
  
I wonder how long I was out for. A few hours? Days? Weeks? I hope not weeks. The team has worked with three before. Hell, we always used to. But now we've become dependant on each other, so extended bed rest is not the best of plans.  
  
"Good. You're awake." I don't recognize the voice. It's male. Odd. Kritiker usually employs pretty, female doctors.  
  
The male comes into view. He's an odd one. Bright blond hair and a bright smile to match. I can see why Kritiker has him under employ. Being stuck in a minuscule room with no windows, I want the sunshine brought to me.  
  
I smile back, flashing my seductive grin, hoping it would have the same effect on him that it has on the pretty nurses.  
  
It doesn't.  
  
He just putters about, checking my vitals, with a tiny frown of concentration.  
  
The silence starts to itch, so I scratch it.  
  
"So when can I get back to work, doc?"  
  
That snaps him out of his work-filled haze.  
  
"Back?" He chuckles. I don't like the sound of that. Don't get me wrong, he has a nice laugh and all, but there are some things that are never funny under any circumstances. Going back to killing people is one of them.  
  
"Yeah, back," I repeat skeptically.  
  
"But you haven't even started yet." His eyebrows frown. Something is very wrong.  
  
"Doc, I don't think it was my head that was hit. It was a chest wound," I tell him, feeling the dread mounting. "You're not with Schwarz, are you?"  
  
He raises confused eyebrows.  
  
"No," I conclude. He would have cackled manically like the Irishman if he were. They don't bother to hide who they are when confronted. What they are, yes, but not who they are.  
  
"This isn't Kritiker," I deadpan.  
  
His lips thin out as if he's going to tell me I have another week to live but can't find the right words.  
  
This is going to be interesting.  
  
"Welcome to Meifu." 


	2. First Assignment

All rights and privileges to Weiß Kreuz are copyrighted trademarks and property of Project Weiß, Koyasu Takehito, and all peoples associated. And all rights and privileges to Yami no Mastuei are copyrighted trademarks and property of Matsushita Youko and all peoples associated. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. (oh no Farfie's gonna come kill me now!) Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh*  
  
Pairings: Yohji/Brad, Watari/Tatsumi  
  
Summary: Yohji wakes up dead. Don't you hate it when that happens?  
  
Contents: Angst, Yaoi, kinda general  
  
Spoilers: this takes place after the Kyoto Arc (Volume 8) and after the Weiss OVA, excluding Gluhen  
  
White Darkness: Chapter One  
  
"I'm dead," I state. How strange those words sound. I've been legally dead for years now. But now I'm really dead. In the most un-alive sense of the word. If he's telling the truth.  
  
He nods sympathetically.  
  
"If I'm dead, then why am I alive?" I pause. That made little sense. "You know what I mean."  
  
"It's not my place to explain," he tells me plainly.  
  
"And the job I haven't started yet?" I press.  
  
"Not my place," he shakes his head.  
  
"Whose place is it then?"  
  
"You'll meet him soon enough." His smile is kind.  
  
"God?" I ask incredulously. "You're not St. Peter are you?"  
  
He laughs until tears form in the corner of his eyes.  
  
"God? No, the Chief," he says by way of explanation.  
  
Confused. But then I was trained relentlessly for situations like this. Not this situation, granted, but confusing situations nonetheless.  
  
I rub my wrist for reassurance. My watch is gone. Shit.  
  
"Now if you don't mind, I need to tend to another."  
  
And he's gone, leaving me alone with my disturbing thoughts.  
  
Just how I don't want to be right now.  
  
I'm dead.  
  
Wow.  
  
Of all things, this is not how I expected the afterlife to be. Although I've never really wondered about it, I just knew I would end up there quicker than most people.  
  
There is also the chance that this doctor is just fucking with my mind, but he really doesn't seem the type to do something like that. I really don't want to come to terms with being dead, until I'm absolutely certain that I am dead. Hell, I don't want to be dead. Period.  
  
"TSUZUKI!!" The name is shouted from the hallway. "Come back here with that cake! You're still an invalid!" The voice sounds like it belongs to the blond doctor.  
  
Tsuzuki. That name is familiar. I just can't remember exactly where I've heard it before.  
  
"Na! You have to catch me, Watari!" The different voice sounds familiar, too. And he's right outside my door.  
  
"Tsuzuki!" A third voice booms. I would not want to be on his bad side, whoever he is. "Get back to bed."  
  
"Hisoka," 'Tsuzuki' whines. "Don't be so mean."  
  
"Idiot," 'Hisoka' grumbles. "It wouldn't hurt for you to gain some smarts. You're an invalid: you should not be running around stealing sweets."  
  
That's where I know the Tsuzuki's: the Tsuzuki Integrated Educational Institution in Fukuoka. Now why do I know that?  
  
I think 'Tsuzuki' sniffles, but I can barely make it out through the door.  
  
"Bon, he can have the cake, but he should be back in bed."  
  
"Wai! Sankyu, Watari!"  
  
"Just don't let Tatsumi know you have been eating sweets when you should be recovering," 'Watari' warns.  
  
"Don't let me know what?" A fourth voice says dangerously. This one must be Tatsumi. Brilliant deduction, if I do say so myself.  
  
Just how many people are going to congregate outside of my room?  
  
"Nothing," 'Watari' says innocently.  
  
"Tsuzuki, you should be in bed. Kurosaki-kun, take him to his room."  
  
"Shouldn't I be the one to do that?"  
  
"No, Konoe-san needs to see you and the new one."  
  
"Yes sir," 'Watari' responds cheekily. "Bon, make sure you take Tsuzuki to bed."  
  
"Mad! You're all mad!" 'Hisoka' declares.  
  
The door opens quietly, and the blond doctor pokes his head in. He gives me the once over, sighs, and enters entirely. He has a small owl on his shoulder. Odd.  
  
"I was hoping to give you some time to come to terms with your new. outlook, but it seems you have been summoned already."  
  
Great. Good thing that didn't make sense. Who knows what would happen if everything started to make sense.  
  
He notices my confusion. "The Chief wants to speak with you."  
  
I would be happier with that sentence if it were not so ominous.  
  
"That's wonderful, Doc, but do you think I could have some clothing first?" I don't want to meet this 'Chief' for the first time wearing a hospital gown. First impressions and all.  
  
"Oh! They're in the closet." He trails off uncertainly.  
  
I crawl out of the bed (which is not as difficult as I had anticipated) and cautiously approach the closet, as if it would eat me whole and spit out my bones. No such luck. The closet is normal, but my clothes are not: they are not my mission clothes nor are they my street clothes. I would never wear anything that looked less than perfect on me. The clothing in this closet is definitely below perfect.  
  
"No, really, where's my clothing?"  
  
He looks slightly nonplussed. "That's what you were b- you can buy new clothing later."  
  
I sigh, wishing I knew what, exactly, he means by the first part of his sentence.  
  
Well, at the moment it's this or a hospital gown.  
  
I tug the suit down from its hanger and dress. He's a doctor, he shouldn't care. Living and killing with three other men has drained me of all shame.  
  
When I finish, the doctor leads me through a dizzying labyrinth of hallways, all the while chattering about partners and how odd it will be to have one and that I shouldn't be worried and that I should not be intimidated by 'Tatsumi' or 'The Chief.'  
  
We enter a door labeled Shoka Division. Interesting. Into the minotaur's lair.  
  
It's set up like an office, copying machine and everything.  
  
A man with dark hair and two dark lines under his eyes glares at us as I close the door behind me.  
  
Doc tells me to ignore him, that he's easily irritated. He looks like a witchdoctor to me and I don't need any more bad luck at the moment.  
  
A cute girl smiles at me. She can't be more than sixteen. She has a strange smile, one I'm not accustomed to receiving from someone her age. It's the kind of smile Momoe-san gives us when we open the store after a difficult mission.  
  
The Doc nods to the chick. He then proceeds to another door.  
  
It leads to an office already occupied by two men. An old one and one that could easily be Crawford's twin.  
  
The door clicks closed behind me. Trapped without my watch.  
  
"Kudo-san, please take a seat," the Crawford twin tells me and smiles.  
  
More spooked than anything else, I comply.  
  
"On behalf of the Shoka Division, I would like to welcome you to Meifu," the older one says.  
  
Good thing I'm sitting, I don't think my legs could handle the stress. Hell, I don't think my mind can handle the stress.  
  
"I am Konoe and this is my secretary, Tatsumi Seiichiro." Tatsumi bows. "And the doctor who brought you here is Watari Yutaka."  
  
I nod: I had already figured as much. The Crawford twin has a Japanese name, not American; that should at least be a good sign, right?  
  
"Normally the Shoka Division attracts souls traveling aimlessly about Meifu unable to find rest. However your situation is unique. Enma-sama has already decided your fate for you, leaving you no choice but to become a Shinigami due to your past job. You must repent."  
  
He can't be talking about floristry here.  
  
"You're buying my soul from Kritiker?" I inquire cynically.  
  
"In theory," Konoe thins his lips.  
  
"You run the same justice league as they do?"  
  
"No," he answers tersely. I don't think he likes me much. Damn, I knew my special talent of pissing people off would show itself sometime. "Shinigami are much like private investigators." Well, at least I have the prerequisite. "They investigate unnatural deaths and release the souls trapped and lingering."  
  
"So Shinigami are exorcists?"  
  
I swear his eyebrow ticks. "Crude, but yes."  
  
Crude, yeah that would be me.  
  
"Shinigami also work in pairs." I can see where this is heading. Why else would the Doc be following me around? "There are nine sections in Japan and therefore eighteen Shinigami, two per section. You are about to be part of an experiment, if you will." I don't like the sound of that. "Watari is in need of a partner and you are to be that partner." Good thing I didn't see that a mile away. "Tatsumi will give you the paperwork and Watari will fill you in on the section you will be covering."  
  
I glance over at the Doc and he smiles brightly at me in an almost perverse way. Like I should be watching my drink. Tatsumi frowns at him and the smile transforms into a pout. Tatsumi then smiles fondly at him, and there is something in his gaze, almost hungry. It's gone almost instantly.  
  
Odd.  
  
A pile of paperwork is dumped onto my lap and so is a key.  
  
"Please have this finished as quickly as possible," the Crawford twin clips. "The key is for your apartment. Watari can show you where it is, and also the basics of being a Shinigami, such teleportation and invisibility. And under no circumstances accept any food or drink from him."  
  
I'm then ushered from the office and the door slams behind me. Friendly.  
  
"Come on," the Doc says almost begrudgingly. "I'll show you how to bull shit your first official Shoka report."  
  
"Wait, Doc, I still don't believe that I'm dead." I stop in my tracks just outside the door under the Shoka Division sign.  
  
"I thought the paperwork would be proof enough," the Doc blinks at me.  
  
I raise my eyebrows.  
  
He sighs. "Your hand please."  
  
I give him my hand.  
  
He takes out a pocket knife from his lab coat.  
  
I take back my hand. "No offence, Doc, but I don't trust you."  
  
"You're going to have to: we're partners now." He smiles at me. There is something very trusting about his smile that makes me suspicious. Yes, that does make sense. He seems so trustworthy and there is no way that anyone can ever be that trusting. Then again, I am positive that he is not after my life, so showing a little trust won't be the death of me.  
  
Wait. It was.  
  
Sighing melodramatically, I give him my hand again, palm up.  
  
He takes the knife and trails it none too lightly across my palm. It hurts like a mother. Nothing like the wounds on a mission, but the adrenaline pumping on those makes pain almost nonexistent. But now I'm expecting it to hurt and hurt it does.  
  
I hiss slightly at the pain and try to take back my hand, but the Doc has an iron grip on my wrist.  
  
He carefully wipes the blood from my palm, it itches, and when all the blood is gone, there is no wound.  
  
"How in all the seven layers of hell did you do that?" I ask awed and just a bit frightened.  
  
"There is only one layer to hell, unpleasant too." He shakes his head. "But you did that, I didn't."  
  
"So, I'm dead," I state.  
  
"You're dead," he affirms.  
  
"Damn," I mutter.  
  
"No, you're not damned, you're just dead." He smiles cheekily and winks. "Now, to your new home!"  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Bombay, Siberian and I are on the way. Target's out." I hiss into my headset as we run through the seedy Kyoto firm. The place is a maze.  
  
We come to a fork. Left or right, neither Ken nor I know which way to turn.  
  
"Bombay, any chance of guiding us through to your location?" Ken asks.  
  
"No good," Omi's voice crackles over the headset. "I scrambled everything."  
  
"What about Abyssinian? Where's he?"  
  
"Negative."  
  
"Shit," Ken grunts.  
  
I second that, Kenken.  
  
"Split up?" he suggests.  
  
"No, it would be safer to stay together. Left or right?"  
  
"Left."  
  
We take off in that direction, I'm leading the way.  
  
I round a corner and feel the hot pain in my chest even before I hear the gunshot.  
  
I crumple painfully to the floor and Ken is immediately at my side, ready to defend me.  
  
"Man down," he screams urgently into the headset. "Second floor, left corridor. Abyssinian, Bombay you'd both damn well better get your collective asses over here. NOW!" Back up, not tearing him to shreds?  
  
Gathering all the energy I can muster up, I look up at the man who shot me. He looks down at me with severe mud-colored eyes. Smart Ken, he knows better than to take on this guy alone.  
  
Blood wells up, frothing at the sides of my mouth. He must have clipped my lung. With all the contempt I feel for the American fucker, I spit blood on his white suit. At least, that's what I intended to do, I miss however and it lands mostly on his shoes.  
  
And damn it, the bastard smirks.  
  
I glare at him until -  
  
I wake up drenched in sweat, breathing hard, and in a strange new place. My hand instinctively grabs for my watch, and my bare wrist is a sore reminder that I don't even have that anymore.  
  
There is a knock on my door. I ignore it. There is no way in hell I'm going to open a door after a dream like that without a weapon.  
  
"You alright, Kudo-san?" It's the Doc.  
  
I ignore him. Let him think I'm still asleep. Hopefully he won't pester me about it in the morning.  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Kyoto?" I blurt out in surprise. That is the section the Doc is assigned to. KYOTO!  
  
The Doc frowns, inspecting me.  
  
"But they know I'm dead there." Yes, I have accepted the death thing. I tried cutting myself, like the Doc did before, and the cuts keep healing on their own.  
  
"Don't worry, it's a very quiet section, I haven't had a case in years.. Well, ignoring Muraki." he trails off. I refuse to ask the question, if he wants to explain he will, but it's not really my business.  
  
Not wanting to get off topic, because I'm sure that the Doc is absentminded enough to get sidetracked himself, but I ask anyway, "Do you know where I can buy a watch and a lot of wire?"  
  
"Hmm," he hums in thought. He's not asking me questions, that's a good thing. That will probably be the basis for our partnership: don't ask. Worked for four men, I think I can work for two without any problems.  
  
He smiles brightly. "Let's go shopping!"  
  
If I could sweatdrop like in a shojo manga, believe me, I would.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Where does one purchase a watch and wire for which to kill people? A department store and an art supply store. I also need to acquire new clothing that looks semi-perfect on me. I can't just go back to the designers and ask for new clothing, I'm dead. The chaos I would cause would be unacceptable, believe me, I just spent the past three hours being lectured on it.  
  
And just how does a dead person pay for all this? Damn good question.  
  
"Ne, Doc, how are you paying for this?" I ask, looking to see which watch could best hold the most amount of wire.  
  
"Every new employee is giving a spending budget to help get their feet on the ground until the first paycheck. I would advise using all of the money, because Tastumi will take back whatever you don't spend - Oh, that one's pretty." Distracted by shiny objects, are we?  
  
I won't press the Tastumi issue. He truly spooks me. Which I really didn't think was very possible after the life that I led.  
  
"Don't you think so, Zero-san?" Yes, he speaks to the owl and either knows what it says or is crazy enough to make up what it says. And yes, he has an owl on his shoulder while shopping.  
  
To keep up airs, I politely look at the watch the Doc pointed to. It might just work, it's large enough.  
  
After purchasing a rather expensive watch that will never tell the correct time, about a kilometer of wire, normal street clothing, cigarettes, sunglasses, and a green hair tie we wonder aimlessly about the mall. The Doc likes to window shop as well as ramble on about nothing in particular. I am ashamed to say that he reminds me of Ken after he has sex. (Not with me, ick, it's Ken for Christ's sake!) No one should ever be *that* talkative.  
  
I look at what the Doc points to: it's shiny, big surprise there.  
  
I catch an odd white reflection out of the corner of my eye. Spinning around I come face to face with a floating chicken.  
  
"Hello," it says in a scratchy, squeaky voice. My eyebrows rise on their own accord.  
  
The Doc turns around and smiles. "Gushoshin, what brings you to this world?"  
  
Gushoshin? As in the god recording deeds of the living?  
  
If anything, the chicken looks sad. "The Chief wishes to speak with both of you."  
  
The Doc's smiles falters, but he catches it in time. "Right away?"  
  
The chicken nods then turns to me. "Kudo-san, I have not had time to welcome you formally. I am Gushoshin." The chicken bows. I bow back for lack of wit. Never in my life did I ever think that I would be bowing and conversing with a chicken. Then again, I'm dead.  
  
~*~*~  
  
The Doc and I gather in the same room as the other day, where I was officially told that I was dead. Tatsumi and Konoe are already there, as are two as of yet unknown males, no doubt to be introduced shortly. I'm willing to bet they were involved with what went on my first day here. One is so young, like Omi with pensive and calculating green eyes in the place of blue ones. If Omi and Aya ever had a love child, he would be it. The other is older, dark with bright violet eyes.  
  
It's the eyes that bother me: they are sad but happy; they remind me of Aya in a backwards way. Aya tries hard to hide and usually succeeds, but there are some things that cannot be hidden no matter how hard he tries, the tenderness when he thinks of his sister is so - so human. But these eyes are just the opposite: they are sad and try to hide behind happiness.  
  
"Kudo-san," Tatsumi says. His voice is warm when I expect him to be stoic; I know I am going to need a lot of time to adjust. I had time to put on the watch, but not enough time to fiddle with it let alone add the wire, but the weight is comforting. "This is Tsuzuki Asato" - He gestures to the dark one, who smiles. - "And Kurosaki Hisoka." The stoic Omi nods politely. That explains the names from the other day.  
  
I nod to each respectively.  
  
I take a seat next to the Doc at the table, across from Tsuzuki. They did refer to each other by their surname, I should too. The chicken is there too.  
  
Tatsumi starts to pace, waving a folder around. "I just received this from the bureau: someone listed as dead but has not entered Meifu." He hands something to the Doc, a photograph. The Doc inspects it then hands it to me. It's Ken.  
  
~*~*~  
  
I am such an inconsiderate dork. I forgot to post the thanks for the reviews. *bangs head against wall*  
  
Live, Nuriko Sama, Sahel, Bahar, Daea, Picaro, and Johee: Thank you. And don't worry, I plan to continue. Hopefully I won't lose interest too quickly, because this isn't going to be that long of a project. I usually update about once a month (thank you school) so look for it. (Either that or after five reviews. Hint hint.)  
  
Coppelia: I think Yohji wonders the same exact thing. In case you couldn't tell from the chapter, both Hisoka and Tsuzuki are going to be playing a more than minor roll. As for Muraki, I haven't decided yet, but I'm leaning towards no. I love him and his evil psychotic and sadistic ways, but he doesn't really fit into the story line.  
  
Lady Akita: Yohij? In trouble? What? Never! Just. don't ask Aya about that. According to him, Yohji IS trouble, but you'll hear more about that soon enough. 


	3. Oh Shit

All rights and privileges to Weiß Kreuz are copyrighted trademarks and property of Project Weiß, Koyasu Takehito, and all peoples associated. And all rights and privileges to Yami no Mastuei are copyrighted trademarks and property of Matsushita Youko and all peoples associated. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. (oh no Farfie's gonna come kill me now!) Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh*  
  
Pairings: Yohji/Brad, Watari/Tatsumi  
  
Summary: Yohji wakes up dead. Don't you hate it when that happens?  
  
Contents: Angst, Yaoi, AU, kinda general  
  
Spoilers: this takes place after the Kyoto Arc (Volume 8) and after the Weiss OVA, excluding Gluhen  
  
Sorry it's been so long since my last update.  
  
White Darkness  
  
"I can't take this mission," I state in as neutral a tone as I can manage, but I think a tremor slipped through. I place the photo very carefully on the table. Who knows, it could burn me if I held it long enough.  
  
Every pair of eyes is on me: Konoe and Tatsumi with horror, Kurosaki with pity – Pity, damn it! – and Tsuzuki and the Doc with awe, an expression that so openly expresses the envy that neither had come up with that before.  
  
Tatsumi reclines his head so that his glasses catch the light. This is a trick that Crawford uses on occasion, to make him seem more threatening than he really is... or as a warning not to push your luck.  
  
"This is not something that you can decline."  
  
Fuck.  
  
"Yes, Crawford," escapes my lips before my mind can take back the name.  
  
The slip is politely ignored except for the kid. He looks at me with the same intensity as the German. My brain starts to itch, and I narrow my gaze at him suspiciously.  
  
He immediately busies himself with cleaning his fingernails.  
  
He can't be a telepath, the itch wasn't as painful as the German, but there is still something there.  
  
Tatsumi looks meaningfully at me before he continues. "His name is Hidaka Ken, aged 20, currently residing in Kyoto and is employed at a traveling flower shop called Kitty in the House. He has been holding on to life for several years."  
  
Years? What the fuck? He should have died? I can't remember one time he was mortally wounded on any mission. He has more sense than I do.  
  
"He was trapped in a blaze, so I would say that he bartered with a fire demon of some sort – "  
  
'I don't like hell.' That's what Ken said when he killed Kaze. Unable to control myself, I chortle. Only Ken would say such a thing literally.  
  
Eyes settle on me again.  
  
"I see nothing funny, Kudo-san," Tatsumi glares at me.  
  
I open my mouth to retort that he doesn't know Ken, but the Doc beats me to it.  
  
"Tatsumi, it's his first job as a Shinigami," he says gently.  
  
I don't need sympathy.  
  
Tatsumi glares daggers at the Doc and his shoulders tense. "That is why Kurosaki-kun and Tsuzuki will aid you." That explains their presence.  
  
The Doc seems confused. "What about their section?"  
  
"It's been very quiet," Kurosaki explains with a frown, as if he meant to say something entirely different.  
  
Tsuzuki nods his agreement.  
  
"I have already booked your reservations, and do not exceed your daily food budget," Tatsumi continues with a pointed glare in Tsuzuki's direction.  
  
Tsuzuki pouts.  
  
~*~*~  
  
"I hadn't meant to ask you this," the Doc says, "but I think it would be a good thing to know for this case. How did you die?"  
  
The meeting is over and the Doc has me cornered in a hallway. I can't look him in the eye, so I look at the owl on his shoulder.  
  
"Ken was there," I find myself saying. Out of the corner of my eye I see the Doc's expression fall. "I don't want pity, damn it," I snap in response, turning to look him in the eyes.  
  
He looks like I just told him his girlfriend died... well, not died, but cheated on him continuously for years and then physically punched him in the gut.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry I snapped." I run a hand through my hair in exasperation. "I just don't like pity." I don't have a better way of explaining than that. I knew I would die. Everyone dies. I just didn't know when. I'll bet Crawford knew it to the second.  
  
Something in my expression must have betrayed my thoughts, because the Doc is trying not to look sympathetic and with very little success.  
  
"I need to go pack," I say quickly. And to load my watch.  
  
~*~*~  
  
The Kyoto hotel is the type of place Kritiker would put us up in: something inexpensive as incentive to get on with our job and not to dally with our work. That and Kritiker is run by cheap bastards.  
  
Sighing, I plop my bag in the far corner of the room.  
  
"So, Aya, when do you want to start?" I ask, staring out of the window. I turn around with a stupid grin plastered to my face. Aya is not there. Omi is not there. Ken is not there. Three other men are there in their stead.  
  
My spirit takes a nosedive.  
  
Kurosaki looks slightly vexed, where as the other two look sympathetic.  
  
"Bon, you talk to him," the Doc murmurs. "He doesn't like sympathy."  
  
Kurosaki's eyebrow twitches. "Fine," he says sullenly. "Go with Tsuzuki and find some food."  
  
Tsuzuki's eyes light up and he practically drags the Doc out of the room not even bothering to close the door.  
  
Kurosaki sighs and closes the door.  
  
"Might as well make yourself comfortable," he mutters. Can he ever be happy? Christ, he really is Aya and Omi's love child. Nasty. Aya and Omi having sex. I feel unclean.  
  
I plop unceremoniously at the end of one of the two beds.  
  
My curiosity takes me by the nose and makes me ask, "What are you? I know you're not a telepath, but you're something damn close."  
  
His face is worth asking the question: it's somewhere between horror and annoyance. He then glares daggers at me. As if it has any affect on me. I did live in a trailer with Aya.  
  
I can tell that he wants desperately to ask me how I know, but has too much pride to actually do it.  
  
"Watari said that you were very perceptive." His tone could freeze a lesser man's balls off. However, as I have mentioned, I've lived with Aya.  
  
"I was a PI," I explain.  
  
"I know," he retorts.  
  
I raise my walls up in defense, very suspicious.  
  
"And just how do you know that?" If we're going to butt heads, might as well make it worth my time.  
  
"Gushoshin," he clips.  
  
"The chicken?"  
  
He raises an eyebrow and my brain itches.  
  
"Look, kid, I don't want to pick a fight, but how much do you know about me?"  
  
"Just that you were a PI and then worked for an organization called Kritiker," he juts his chin out.  
  
"That's it?" I ask incredulously.  
  
He nods. Good, that means he doesn't know the nature of Kritiker.  
  
"Good. Now, tell me what you used on me," I demand. Flirting is beyond me at this point, I want information, damn it. "I know it's not telepathy, it's not as intense."  
  
"Empathy," he responds grudgingly.  
  
Well, that explains that.  
  
"Good. Done. Now don't use it on me again without my permission." See, I can be just as pissy as you can, Kid.  
  
"No one has ever been able to tell before," he admits. And the unsaid question: 'how the hell do you know?!'  
  
"I have experience with a nosey telepath," I find myself admitting.  
  
"I'm supposed to talk to you about your death," he blurts out. "I think asking that is very rude. They would have done it, though, but I can tell when you're lying."  
  
"Then you understand that I like to keep secrets." There is no point in lying to an empath. Well, it makes just as much sense as lying to a telepath.  
  
"And you also understand that the information you provide will either be willingly or not, but we will obtain that information." His eyes narrow dangerously. "It's not to pry into your life – no, life's not the right word... The point is that we need all the information we can on this."  
  
"What exactly is 'this'?" I hope my tone is a bit friendlier than before.  
  
"It's an assignment to find the person in question, in this case Hidaka Ken, and separate his soul from his body as it has refused to do so on its own."  
  
I can't believe Ken is dead, has been dead all the time I've known him.  
  
"How do you know him?" Kurosaki asks quietly.  
  
I can't hide anything. He picked up my emotions during the briefing. He knows: he just wants me to say it.  
  
"He was a coworker."  
  
"He saw you die, didn't he?"  
  
"Yeah, he was there," I whisper.  
  
"And this Crawford?"  
  
Anger.  
  
Kurosaki blinks at the intensity of the emotion, even hisses.  
  
"That has nothing to do with Ken," I say smoothly.  
  
He shrugs. Smug bastard.  
  
"How did you die?" I ask.  
  
"That happens to be none of your business and does not pertain to this case," he grits out through clenched teeth.  
  
"Point made."  
  
"You are an impossible man, Kudo."  
  
"You're not the first to say so. Besides, I already know how you died: it was in all the papers."  
  
That catches his attention.  
  
"Then it's fair to ask the same of you."  
  
"Who said life was fair?"  
  
"You're not alive."  
  
"Point taken."  
  
"Well?"  
  
"You really are just like Aya. Maybe cousins?" I muse. He glares at me.  
  
"I was shot. It was very impersonal," I sigh melodramatically. And for some unknown reason, Asuka pops into my head. She – I could see her again!  
  
He hums and nods. "What are you so happy about?"  
  
"My woman," I wink at him. Hope springs eternal in the hearts of the naïve.  
  
Kurosaki regards me wryly.  
  
"Shinigami, are they allowed to visit the dead?"  
  
"No. Unless the dead in question is employed by Juohcho."  
  
"How would I find that out?"  
  
"It's kept under lock and key," he says flatly.  
  
"Not a problem," I respond coolly before I can stop myself.  
  
Kurosaki looks a bit uncomfortable, as if he knows exactly how it would not be a problem for me.  
  
"How much do you *really* know?" I ask warily, hand instinctively over my watch. I don't know if he's dangerous yet, I shouldn't jump to conclusions so quickly, but then a slow assassin is a dead assassin. Thank you, Crawford.  
  
"So he was the one who killed you," Kurosaki whispers.  
  
My wire is around his neck before I can stop myself. His eyes bulge from fear, shock, and lack of oxygen. I realize what I'm doing and retract the wire quickly and shamefully. What has me this inhabited? Stupid, stupid.  
  
Cherry blossoms swirl about the room, clouding my vision, and when I can see properly again, everything is different. My wire is not on the floor where it landed when I removed it from Kurosaki's neck.  
  
This is why I hate telepaths.  
  
"That didn't happen," I state. That is a game that the German played. Took my mind and played out a scene in my head. No wonder I was so out of character. "I don't like being fucked with, Kurosaki."  
  
The kid looks up at me stoically, then looks away quickly. "You would never have supplied the information on your own." He's frightened of me, although he does have a point.  
  
Shit. The wire. "You tell no one about my wire," I threaten. I don't like to threaten, but who knows how people react when they discover that you kill people for a living.  
  
"Muraki," he whispers in a daze, eyes glassy and unfocused.  
  
"Hey, Kid!" I snap my fingers. He flinches and his eyes clear.  
  
"I'm sorry, Kudo-san," he bows.  
  
"Don't sweat it, Kid, just tell me that you are going to do it, ok? I don't handle surprises well."  
  
His lip twitches and his hand reaches to rub his neck. No angry red marks from my wire, thank the gods.  
  
The door slams open. "Hisoka!"  
  
The Doc and Tsuzuki have returned. Tsuzuki tackles Kurosaki to the ground. Kinky.  
  
Kurosaki regards Tsuzuki with distaste as he pushes the man off him. "Apple pie?" he asks the Doc. He nods solemnly.  
  
Call me crazy, but that's weird.  
  
"Bon?" The Doc asks, helping Kurosaki pull Tsuzuki off him.  
  
I refrain from rolling my eyes.  
  
Kurosaki looks at me with a bit too much fear than is healthy.  
  
I sigh. Poor kid. "Yeah, he got me to speak, no matter how ill begotten the information was." What can I say, I hold a grudge against people that surprise me. "Do you want me to just tell you straight out so that there is no more secrecy?"  
  
The Doc and Tsuzuki look floored.  
  
"Ken was there when I died." The Doc nods; he already knows this. Tsuzuki looks sympathetic until Kurosaki elbows him in the ribs, then he just looks sad. "We had worked together for years. I was shot in front of him. That's the short version of the long and boring story."  
  
Kurosaki doesn't buy the 'boring' part, but whatcha gonna do?  
  
"This calls for more apple pie!" Tsuzuki declares.  
  
Kurosaki stomps on his foot.  
  
~*~*~  
  
TBC  
  
Thank you to all my beautiful reviewers!  
  
Mangababe: The only people that are going to die are those that were already dead when the story began... I think that makes enough sense not to spoil too much.  
  
GeneWeiss: I haven't had enough free time to look at your fic yet, but don't worry, I will.  
  
White_Rose1: Sorry it took so long to update.  
  
Mona: Sorry about the slight OOC-ness of Yohji in this chapter, but it was needed.  
  
Tramontana Keeper: Sorry it took so long to update.  
  
Daea: Thankies!  
  
Ice'is Blue: I think this chapter cleared up that Yohji was not romantically involved with anyone in Weiss... Next chapter deals with what is left of Weiss. I'm having difficulty with it, so it might take some time. 


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